Bubbly has finally caught the attention of the school system. I have been twisting their arm for some time now, telling them that there is something not right with her. They agreed, but it wasn’t ‘bad enough’ to do anything about. She hasn’t gotten worse. In fact, in my eyes, she’s gotten a lot better. She has been in public school long enough for them to notice that what we said about her is true, and that they haven’t been able to help her as quickly as they would like. You mean they couldn’t fix her in a matter of months either? You mean she really has the problems that I described? SHOCKING!!! Maybe they underestimated just how affected she is by the crappy beings that were the first three years of her life.
Trauma isn’t something that she’s just going to “get over” because she isn’t in that situation anymore. I just watched a news report on a girl adopted from Romania in the early 90s. She is 24 years old now. She has an Autism diagnosis that is largely attributed to the way she began her life. Bubbly will probably end up with a diagnosis. It won’t probably be exactly the correct diagnosis, and we’re refusing to medicated her thus far so it doesn’t really matter what they want to label her with, but I know it has to do with the way she began her life. Some of it is probably her, but there is NO WAY that her life at the orphanage didn’t contribute to this.
It has become a full-time job to advocate for Bubbly. No, she doesn’t need medication. Yes, she does need special accommodations (and help) at school. No, we don’t want to speak with the school shrink (we have one who specializes in trauma, and the guy at school just doesn’t get us). Yes, we do want to talk to the social worker. I’ve killed a forest of trees with the paper I’ve used to fill out forms. Forms about her behaviors at home, at school, in the car, in the store, on a bike…just kidding, but it’s a lot of forms. I have meetings about her more days than I don’t. She occupies more than half my time when I’m home with all the kids. I have seven kids, and she occupies 50% of my time. It’s hard.
But, do you know what has been the hardest? Admitting that I have a daughter who needs this. She needs all the forms, the help, the social worker. I’ve never had that before. I never thought I would be able to parent a child who fell into the category of ‘Emotionally/Behaviorally Disturbed’. She has an EBD diagnosis now. The surprising part is…
I’m glad she’s going to get even more help. I’m glad that every time we meet with the folks who are helping me that I feel more confident that someday this may not be necessary. I’m glad to tell them all how far she’s come.
I’m glad she’s here, and not there.
I’m thankful for my new full-time job. I’m thankful that I’m her mom.